


Here's To Our Memories

by eyesofapanda



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-01
Updated: 2014-01-01
Packaged: 2018-01-07 01:35:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1113960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eyesofapanda/pseuds/eyesofapanda
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's New Year's Eve, and Derek misses his ex-girlfriend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Here's To Our Memories

"Mom is going to kill you!" Laura sing-songs with glee when she walks through the front door with her boyfriend in tow. Without waiting for a response, she promptly drags him upstairs.  
  
"What she won't know won't hurt her!" Derek hollers, but it's lost in the heavy bass of Erica's playlist. His parents aren't due home until January 3rd, so that gives them plenty of time to clean up.  
  
As Derek shoulders his way past teenagers he vaguely recognises from school - plus ones of plus ones, no doubt; this New Year's party was always going to spiral out of control - towards the kitchen, where the stash of alcohol is laid out across the counters. He's helping himself to a beer when Boyd appears at his side.   
  
"Fifteen minutes until midnight," he tells Derek. "Erica says make sure you've got yourself a piece of hot ass before then."  
  
Derek rolls his eyes. Erica's two years younger, in her sophomore year at Beacon Hills High School, but their families have known each other for years. As well as being Cora's best friend, she also seems to think she has a degree of control over Derek's life.  
  
"And Cora says to keep your hot piece of ass at least twenty feet away from her," Boyd continues as Derek hands him a beer as well. They're all too young to be drinking, but it's a New Year's party, and as luck would have it, so far no one has inebriated themselves to the point of embarrassment.  
  
"Like I want to be anywhere near her or Isaac," Derek snorts. Together they weave through the crowds again, splitting up in the corridor - Boyd heading to the lounge, Derek the backyard. "Need some fresh air," he shouts, motioning at the door.  
  
It's blessedly quiet outside. It's not that Derek isn't enjoying the rave - he's technically the host, after all, even though it had been Erica and Cora who had manipulated him into agreeing (not that he'll ever admit it out loud) - but with the clock soon to strike midnight, his thoughts are once again consumed by Paige.  
  
His first serious girlfriend had moved halfway across the country after they'd finished their junior year. Derek had missed her intensely at first, more than he thought he'd be capable of, but the long distance soon drove their relationship into the ground. Now it's only a slight, tender ache in his chest when he thinks of her, but it's stronger tonight; all he can think about is how Paige had kissed him at a similar New Year's party, exactly one year ago.  
  
The door opens, letting out the sound of Jason Derulo and the excitable chatter of teenagers, before it shuts again. Derek turns around to see a familiar boy, and quirks an eyebrow of greeting at him.  
  
"Hey," Stiles says. He sticks his hands in the pockets of his skinny jeans and gives Derek a small smile. He's only wearing a long-sleeved top - white with navy arms - and he's obviously cold. "Pretty chilly tonight. Am I interrupting your Zen?"  
  
Derek shrugs. He only knows Stiles through the circle of friends his sister is nestled in: Cora is dating Isaac, who's friends with Scott, who's best friends with Stiles, who's also friends with Erica, who's dating Boyd, and who is also best friends with Cora. Derek practically spends more time with sophomores than he does his senior peers, which is a sad reflection on his life.  
  
Surprisingly, Stiles doesn't have an alcoholic beverage in his hand, and it's hard to read his expression beyond the smile. He can be irritatingly sarcastic, and he's too intelligent for his own good, but he's been a fixture in Cora's life, and therefore Derek's, for years. Derek likes to think he's gotten pretty good at reading the melodramatic flailing that is the Sheriff's kid. He might even consider them friends.  
  
"You're good," Derek says. Stiles stands next to him, and as he looks up searchingly at the clear, starry night, Derek realises with surprise that they're of the same height: Derek's now only got an inch on him, when he used to loom over all of the younger boys. First Isaac surpassed him, now Stiles; next it'll be Scott, and then Derek will develop a height complex.  
  
Further inspection of Stiles makes Derek do another double take. Long gone are the days of the buzz cut, his hair spiked up over his forehead, and his clothes are startlingly tight-fitting. Stiles is  _attractive,_  Derek realises with growing horror. What happened to the dorky, unimpressive Sheriff's kid?  
  
"You okay?" Stiles interrupts his reverie, and Derek looks up from staring at Stiles' hips to catch his eyes. "You seem pretty out of it, dude. Had too much to drink already?"  
  
Derek gathers his wits as quickly as he can. "Like you can talk," he snorts, referring to the last time he and Stiles had attended the same party; Cora and Erica had made Boyd drive Stiles and his Jeep home because he'd been too drunk to even walk.  
  
"That was  _one_  time," Stiles grumbles, the light from the house illuminating the attractive flush of red in his cheeks. "I'm never going to live it down."  
  
"You will," Derek assures him with certainty. "In ten years' time, none of this will matter."  
  
Stiles grins, amused. "Dude, that's deep." He glances back at the house. "So you're saying that who we kiss at midnight tonight doesn't matter?"  
  
Derek shrugs. "If it matters to you, it'll matter right now. But by next year it'll be another memory."  
  
Stiles watches Derek with an unreadable expression, and he shuffles his feet like he's nervous. "You miss her," he says quietly, before he ducks his head, staring at his shoes.  
  
Derek freezes. Stiles knew about Paige, of course - everyone did. But no one, with the exception of Laura, has mentioned her to him since they'd officially broken up three months ago. Everyone's been stepping around him on eggshells, for which Derek has both resented and been grateful for.  
  
"They're all memories now," Derek eventually says, after his anger and frustration and sorrow have abated somewhat. "Life goes on."  
  
Stiles barks a soft laugh. "Tell me about it. Last year, on this same date, Lydia told me, very explicitly and with brutal honesty, that she would never love me the way I love her. Well, she used the word 'worship', which, fair point. I was pretty... obsessed." Derek knows, because everyone knew about Stiles' undying adoration for Lydia Martin, which Derek will never understand. "It's just a memory now, but it still hurts," Stiles finishes, dragging a hand out of his pocket to scratch the back of his neck.  
  
Derek stares at Stiles, and he sees how much he's changed since he was a gangly eleven-year-old in the same class as his sister. Stiles has surprising depths, which shouldn't really be that surprising, when Derek considers it. He lost his mother when he was eight; that would make any child grow old before their time.  
  
Inside the house, Derek hears everyone start chanting backwards from 30. Half a minute until midnight, and Derek doesn't have a hot piece of ass. He's going to disappoint Erica, but it's not like Derek is particularly concerned. There's always Stiles, who clearly doesn't have a date tonight, and he's a pretty hot piece of ass now, Derek contemplates with his eyes fixed on the bow of Stiles' mouth.  
  
But Derek could never force himself on someone, especially not the Sheriff's only kid. He doesn't know if Stiles even swings both ways, but then again, no one's aware of Derek's preferences either. He's the popular Captain of the basketball team - as if anyone's going to ask questions.  
  
"Here we go," Stiles says, more to himself than to Derek, but he catches his eyes with a grin. "Here's to our memories."   
  
When the shouting hits 10, Stiles joins in. Derek huffs a laugh and begrudgingly follows his lead, muttering, "8, 7, 6, 5..."  
  
They hit 3, 2, finally 1, and then Stiles is pulling Derek's down by the collar and pressing their mouths together. At first it's just a simple press of their lips, Derek too shocked to process it; but when he eventually does, he immediately opens his mouth and lets his tongue coax Stiles into doing the same. Stiles opens up easily, letting Derek's palm steady his jaw, and kisses back with typical Stiles enthusiasm.  
  
When they finally pull apart, Stiles' hand is resting on Derek's heaving chest, and he's flushed a beautiful rose-red.   
  
"I didn't want you to remember this year as the one where you were alone, because you lost someone and that hurt," Stiles finally says, while Derek struggles for words. "I know they're just memories, but they can still matter. You still think about them and they can still cause you pain. You should be able to look back on today next year and smile about something. Like me kissing you... Or me making a fool of myself... Or me coming out of the closet in the most spectacular of ways." Stiles' hands do a jazz show, and Derek has to bite down a laugh at Stiles' mortified expression. "Although, maybe there's something you've been keeping quiet yourself," he continues, squinting at Derek suspiciously, "because that was one  _hell_  of a kiss, Derek Hale."  
  
Derek fights the blush, because Stiles has done enough of that for both of them.

"Thanks, Stiles," he says, instead of everything else he could, or should, say.  
  
Stiles' face lights up with a smile, and it's startlingly beautiful. Derek thinks he'll soon learn that there's a lot of Stiles that is more beautiful than he could imagine.  
  
"Happy New Year, Derek."


End file.
